


Leggo My Neko

by SunsetStarlight



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetStarlight/pseuds/SunsetStarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow has traveled the world, gone from riches to rags, committed the greatest crime, and left his home behind. All this for one thing, one feeling, one memory, one smile. He will get it back again. He will get it all back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was the scum of the earth.  He was the dog shit that got stuck on the bottom of your shoe and you unknowingly tracked it around all day wondering what the hell that smell was.  He was the insect that crawls into your drink, you end up swallowing it, and then you spit it back up after you choke enough to make your eyes water.  He was the used tampon left out in the open in the girls’ bathroom of your high school.  His blue hair was wild and his darker blue eyes were furious.  He got no respect, but fear?  Oh, yes he got fear.  Pure, unrestrained, irrational fear everywhere he went.  It puffed out of common assholes like a defense mechanism.  And fuck, it felt tremendous when he grabbed the random businessman passing by his usual hangout at the side of Stark’s custom gun shop.

The man in the black suit was pretty built in the muscle department, but he was one of those who went to the gym and beefed up for looks.  This sniveling, shivering asshole didn’t know how to use any of it properly and any urge to do so went out of his head when his black eyes met blue and recognized who exactly was crushing his windpipe with callused hands.  Grimmjow smirked and decided to end this quick because Stark didn’t like him to kill people outside of his shop.  One hit with his free hand and the filthy rich bastard was out of his mind.  Literally.  Grimmjow dropped the slack body and went through the assholes pockets, the smooth and silky material cool beneath his hands.

The guy had a slim, leather wallet with no cash in it at all.  Of course.  Rich bastards like him only carried credit.  And apparently a little slip of paper with all of their information for said credit.  Grimmjow shook his head and chuckled under his breath, slipping the wallet into his back jeans pocket and pulling the unconscious body further into the alley.  He made sure to drag the guy close to either side of the alley so his face would drag across the brick and mark up his face a bit.  Glancing at the darkening sky, Grimmjow left the alley and made his way to the entrance of Stark’s shop.  A bell tinkled as he pushed the door open.  Stark’s shop was neat and clean.  Only a few actual guns were for sell because being a custom shop most people brought in guns they already had so Stark could fix them up.  Even though the gun selection was small and not anything really to look at, the carefully placed display cases with finished custom guns of all kinds and years drew in the money.

The beige walls were covered with digital photos of work Stark had already done for past customers and some designs he drew.  Stark’s personal work was kept upstairs where he lived above his shop.  Not seeing his sometimes friend, Grimmjow walked around the sales desk on the right and into the back room.  A slim man with brown skin and shoulder length black hair was laying over the surface of the desk he was sitting at and snoring loudly with his head facing away from the door.  Grimmjow swung his open hand towards said head, but it was caught around the wrist before it could make contact.  The blue haired guy was no stranger to the black haired man’s reflexes.  He just grinned and kicked him in the shin.  Stark hissed and let go of his wrist so he could rub his fingers over his new point of pain.  Hazy grey eyes stared at him.

“What do you want this time?”  Stark mumbled.  Grimmjow sat on the desk and sighed.

“I need to use your laptop, Doggie.”  Stark had a thing for wolves and Grimmjow had a thing for pissing people off.  The problem was that Stark also had a thing for never getting angry or riled up.  This was strangely and secretly refreshing for Grimmjow which was one of the reasons he kept coming back to the damn shop all the time for nonsensical shit.  Stark stared at him some more, Grimmjow could see disappointment and it pissed him off a little, even made him feel the tiniest bit guilty for a few seconds.

“For what?” Stark asked.  “I’m not letting you use it for any illegal shit.  You should go to school for all that genius tinkering you do over at Nnoitra’s garage.  I told you that I would pay for it.”

Grimmjow sneered at him in anger.

“Poor Stark.  You want to help the no good bastard you see all the time who’s secretly screaming for help, but he just won’t listen.”

“Grimmjow—”

“I don’t need your fucking school!” He slammed his hand down hard enough to rattle the surface of the desk. “And I don’t need your fucking pity, Stark!  I asked for your laptop, not all of this extra shit.  Go save someone else’s fucked up life.  I’m sure the kids with the distended bellies would appreciate it in Africa.”

Stark opened his mouth to say something and Grimmjow hissed like a snake.  Stark just shook his head and held up one finger to indicate the upstairs part of the shop.  Grimmjow gave him one last death contemplating glare and left.  He hurried up the stairs, heart clenching and unclenching in his chest.  After so many years, Grimmjow still got excited and nervous when it was time for him to do his online search.  Most would have given up a long time ago, but most wouldn’t have done what he had as teenager.  Stark’s laptop was in his bedroom, sitting on a desk that was nudged under the sill of a window. 

Grimmjow’s boots squeaked across the hardwood floor and he sighed heavily as he sat down in the desk chair.  The laptop booted up in seconds and he used the Bluetooth mouse to navigate the web.  A certain website, pawsandclaws.com, was a heavily protected bidding website similar to ebay in some ways.  Rare, exotic, and endangered animals were up for bid constantly, but the main draw was the neko section.  The neko’s weren’t purebred; the purebred breeds were always chipped and kept track of.  Private breeding was not allowed, only government sanctioned breeders having the privilege.  Pawsandclaws.com sold kidnapped nekos and illegally bred nekos, selling them to the highest bidder in online auctions.

He signed in, typing in countless passwords onto the black screen.  Once he was on the website, he clicked on the neko link and searched the same two words he’d searched for since he’d lost what was most important to him; orange tabby.  A tabby was nothing special, not even the four-legged breed.  The one he was looking for though, he was the sun and light Grimmjow used to bask in, the only good he’d ever gotten out of life.  The results loaded quickly and then the screen blacked out again, requiring more passwords and identification.  Grimmjow bypassed it by giving the stupid rich asshole’s identification and scrolled through the results.

There were only fifteen orange tabby nekos.  He scrolled slowly, peering at the photos closely.  His finger froze as his gaze passed number thirteen.  Sweat beaded on his skin as he stared at those big brown eyes, that wild orange hair grown longer than he was used to seeing it, the pale gold skin he’d tried so hard to get his hands on. 

“Ichigo.” He whispered to the photo.  “Ichigo Kurosaki.”

He could remember the moment they met.  A cold hearted teen staring at an orange haired neko eating ramen and twitching his ears… _Grimmjow had seen plenty of neko before, Japan was full of them it seemed sometimes.  The oddness though was that this particular neko was unattached.  No owner standing over him or at his side.  The neko freely sat at the outside bar and enjoyed a large bowl of steaming ramen.  What did that feel like?  Free to do what you liked?  Having to do nothing more than what you were doing in any moment?  Those ears twitched in what he assumed was happiness.  Suddenly, the neko looked over and smiled._

_“You can touch my ears if you want.” He said.  “I won’t be offended.  You’ve been staring awhile.”_

_Grimmjow’s heart thumped in his chest as he stood and gently rubbed his fingers and the palm of his hand over those furry ears.  So warm, so soft.  Then he’d done something he hadn’t since he was a small child.  He squeezed his eyes shut and he wrapped his arms around another living being, face buried in the neko’s hair, and the neko purred quietly while Grimmjow’s heart ached._

“Ichigo Kurosaki.” He said again, a small smile on his lips this time.

He clicked the link to Ichigo’s information.  His hand squeezed into a fist and his stomach twisted painfully in his body.  The neko wasn’t much in the way of cost.  Ichigo was still just an orange tabby and most bidders were putting their money on tiger nekos or leopard breeds.  Ichigo was only twenty thousand at the moment and bidding would end in ten minutes.  Grimmjow used the asshole’s credit card and put sixty thousand on Ichigo, just to be safe.  Impatiently, he waited out the bidding, which was half-hearted at best, only going up to twenty two thousand.  After payment was accepted, Ichigo’s location was revealed to Grimmjow on the screen.  He couldn’t help but grin.  Ichigo was in America too and Grimmjow knew exactly where.

 

Stark P.O.V.

Stark sighed and rested his chin on his hand.  To save Grimmjow was his quest in life.  It seemed like the kid had always been homeless, like the city had fucked the misery of the world and Grimmjow had risen up from the sidewalk.  His looks and size stood out, but Stark had never seen him with anyone else unless he was beating the shit out of them with a delighted and sadistic grin on his face.  He knew the kid had gone to high school because he’d met him while he was in the later years of it.  His school uniform had been ratty and torn.  The shirt no longer anywhere near white, black smudges and blood stains all over it.  His slacks had been ripped at the knees and rumpled and Stark had to wonder if he had done it on purpose.  Stark had gone to the kid’s school and ordered him a new one.  So that one day when the kid had come slamming into his shop, he’d gotten an armful of new clothes and a rare stern look from grey eyes.

Grimmjow didn’t give much, in anything.  And he had to guess that Grimmjow didn’t give much because he didn’t take much either.  Stark didn’t press him too much.  The kid was twenty three to Stark’s thirty so he could handle himself just fine.  The problem was that he and Grimmjow’s definition of fine were like sun and moon.  Grimmjow could be starving and living in a cardboard box and say that he was fine.  As it was, Stark didn’t know where the hell the kid even lived.  Maybe he should have cut Grimmjow loose a long time ago, but Stark’s training wouldn’t let him do that.  Grimmjow was bad enough with his violence and illegal activity, but Stark felt that it would be much worse if the kid had no one to go to from time to time, no one to put some kind of boundaries on him.

He saw the kid as a brother, family.  The kid had even become family to the rest of Stark’s unit, though Grimmjow didn’t know it; being undercover was troublesome sometimes.  Grimmjow never did anything too bad, so they always turned a blind eye, though Stark did put a stop to the kid doing that shit around his shop.  He sighed and stared out of the glass doors of said shop.  While he knew what Grimmjow was up to on the street, he didn’t know what he was up to one the web.  Stark’s computer was way more high tech than the average.  The device was wiped clean automatically after every usage, so when the kid shut it down after doing whatever he did, Stark couldn’t go back and see what he’d been up to; a double-edged sword.  Stark let it go though, his own business on that laptop was far more important and the laptop wiping itself would insure secrecy if someone ever figured him out and killed him.

A loud bang resonated across his ceiling, causing him to sit up straight and focus.  Seconds later, Grimmjow ran down the stairs and out of the doors without a word or glance.  Stark watched him disappear and cursed.  It was times like that when he wished he could check the history on that laptop.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 

Many years ago….

There was surprisingly little blood.  The little boy thought there would be a lot more blood when someone’s head had been splattered like that.  The smell was acrid and thick, causing him to gag.  Brain matter, blood, and bone littered the floor and walls almost neatly as his mother’s body lay crumpled on the floor.  A small chunk of her head was still attached to her neck.

“Look away, Little Blue.” Said the deep voice of one to the four men he’d come to know as his “uncle’s”.  Uncle Johann grabbed his small shoulders and turned him around so that his wide eyed face was smashed against a hard ridged stomach.  Orders were barked out, vibrating in his ears.  The only other Uncle there was Uncle Handel.  He was supposed to stay with the boy’s mother while Johann bought the boy home from school.  That’s what happened every day, except that day Uncle Johann couldn’t make contact with home and now the boy’s mother was dead, Handel was probably dead, and Johann was yelling into his cell phone.  The boy’s head was pulled back to look into gray eyes.

“Your Father is here to get you.  Go straight downstairs and get into the car.  Understand?”

“Da.” The boy said as he nodded.  The man called Johann released his hold on him and the boy turned and did as he’d been told.  His little body was shaking as he was pulled into the back seat by another “Uncle” and pressed down onto the floor of the car.  The car roared into motion and the boy glanced up just in time to connect gazes with blue eyes identical to his own.

“Wipe your fucking face, Grimmjow.”  His father growled.  “No son of mine is going to cry over some bitch.”

Grimmjow wiped his face because he was only seven and had to do as his Father said, but he vowed that one day, when he was old enough, he’d do whatever the hell he wanted.

 

 

Present Day…

Grimmjow ran down the sidewalks like a possessed racing horse, plowing through the people packed pathways with no remorse.  Ichigo was in America, close enough for them to breathe the same air, hear the same city.  The supposed abandoned warehouse where the neko merchandise was held and ready for pick-up was just ahead when Grimmjow realized he would have to turn back.  He could storm in there and take what was his, but he stopped his running and looked down at himself.  His clothes were shit, he had no weapons, and his looks were unmistakable.  Grimmjow couldn’t be sure that the sellers would know to look for him, but he couldn’t risk it.  If he wanted to go into that warehouse and come back out with no problems, he had to not go in.

Deep breath.  The sky was clear, the sun bright, and he knew where Ichigo Kurosaki was in the world.  That was much better than life had been eight years ago, when the running and searching had really started; when blood stained every part of him.  He wasn’t reluctant to spread more blood again, but he couldn’t afford to bring that kind of attention to himself in America.  He slid his hands into his pockets and smiled.  Grinning, Grimmjow slid the credit card out of his jeans and read the name printed across the front.

“Doran Yamanai."

The eyes should have clued him in, the guy was at least half Japanese.  Well, Doran Yamanai was going to take Grimmjow’s place in the pick-up.  Silently reading the address, Grimmjow headed back to Stark’s place.  He would need money and a gun.  One he could get easily enough from the lazy bastard, but the other…the other would be much harder to get to.  When he walked through the double glass doors, he called out for Stark.  The shop was silent as death, but that didn’t guarantee that Stark wasn’t there; Stark was asleep more often than not.  He crept up the stairs and peeked into Stark’s bedroom.

The room was dark and cold, the only light was faintly shining through the blinds giving the room a slightly golden aura.  Grimmjow sighed and rubbed his eyes.  He hadn’t slept soundly in years, his eyes open more often than closed.  Dragging himself from one place to the next everyday was tiring in more ways than one, but now his shitty lifestyle had finally paid off.  Ichigo would be his again, next to him again, smiling again.  He walked over to Stark’s closet and reached up on the top shelf, pulling down a roll of money.  Unrolling ten bills, he rolled up the rest and put it back in place.  One grand would be just enough for a new suit and taxi fare. 

Quickly, Grimmjow went back down the stairs and walked towards the exit, an open door catching his eye.  He paused and stared into the room; the work room.  Deciding to go inside, Grimmjow peered at the many custom detailed guns under the steel grated cage.  Split decision, he grabbed the spare key and unlocked a specific part of the cage.  Reaching in, he gently lifted out his prize.  The pistol had a red tone to its color, the handle a delicate looking silver, embossed with a golden woman wearing a kimono.  It was almost gaudy, not something that would usually catch Grimmjow’s eye, but he needed something showy if he was going to play the part.

Locking the cage back, he slipped the gun into the back of his jeans and made sure it was held in place by his belt; he’d get a proper holster for it when he went shopping.  Taking one last look around, Grimmjow nodded to himself and left for good.  He only had two hours to make the pick-up.  His hands trembled a little as he stood on the sidewalk, waving for a taxi.  Stark would never forgive him for stealing one of his guns.

 

* * *

 

 Doran Yamanai lived in a gated community.  Luckily for Grimmjow, Doran apparently was terrible at remembering things so the passcode to get in was also in his wallet, now in Grimmjow’s possession.  If the gate had had a guard, things might have been more than a bit difficult.  He quickly slid back into the taxi and they moved forward.  The houses were beyond necessity.  Large, bloated carcasses lying above ground, home to more than a few parasites.  Even so, the houses they passed were nothing but orcas washed ashore next to the giant beached whale he had once lived in.  He hadn’t enjoyed that lifestyle, never had the chance to really give enjoying it a go.  His Father had been the type to suck such things out of everyone around him because he didn’t have it in himself.

Doran’s house wasn’t too bad.  Tan stone like sand bricks, a tiny archway for his door, and white concrete for his driveway.  A few well-placed solar panels caught the sunlight and Grimmjow had to think maybe Doran wasn’t so bad.  It was irrelevant though, Grimmjow needed him.  A black Ducati waited in the driveway, right in the fucking sun.  The asshole apparently didn’t know how to take care of his bike.  He reached forward and grabbed the driver’s shoulder as the car slowed to a stop.

“Wait here, we’ll be right out.”

The driver nodded and Grimmjow stepped out.  The driveway wasn’t a long one and in no time he was at the glass door and ringing the bell.  What he really wanted to do was bust the door down, shatter the glass, but he knew that visitors calling on Doran Yamanai would ring the doorbell like someone civilized.  He saw the muscled man lone before he reached the door.  White bandages were stuck to his face in places and he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket.  Otherwise, the guy looked the same.  Now that he took the time to look, the guy was a light brown color.  His dark eyes glared out at Grimmjow as he unlocked the door and literally slid it to the side to open it like a shouji door.

“What the fuck do you want?” Doran growled.  “Money?  I’m sure you already maxed out my credit.”

Grimmjow grinned.  “Not unless your limit was twenty two grand.”

Doran’s eyes narrowed and his jaw flexed.  “Twenty two grand?  What the hell could you possibly want that costs that much?  Why come looking for me?”

Grimmjow stepped forward and Doran stepped back.  Grimmjow continued his trek forward until he was in the house, sliding the door shut.  The inside was surprisingly warm and open.  A lot of brown and gold dominated the color scheme.  The foyer wall held a large photo of a brown skinned woman smiling and holding a chocolate cake on a plate.  A Japanese man had one arm around her, smiling, with a toddler sitting in the crook of his other arm.  Sticking up out of the man’s wild black hair were cat ears; a neko.  Doran watched him stare at the photo and his body seemed to relax.

“My parents.” Doran explained.  “My Mother was an English teacher in Japan.  She taught impoverished nekos, the ones who weren’t of a pure breed so never got the education the more pure of their kind received.  She met my Oto-san in one of her adult classes.”

Grimmjow gave Doran the once over again.  No ears, no tail.  No signs at all that more than human blood ran in his veins.  Doran shrugged at his perusal.

“I didn’t get any of the traits; my little sister did.”  His eyes slid closed and he turned away from the photo.  “Doesn’t matter now, they’re all dead.”

Despite not having the time, Grimmjow wanted to ask the man what had happened.  It was rare to see the child of a neko and a human.  Most human women that fucked nekos didn’t let the neko breed them, not even if they were in love.  In Japan, nekos were treated like pets or stray animals that could talk.  A hybrid child…some would kill a hybrid kit if they came across it, nekos breeding with humans was nowhere near an accepted way of life.  Instead of asking questions, he told the man what he came there for.

“My soul is a neko.” He said, causing Doran to open his eyes in shock and stare at him.  “I used your card to buy him and now I need to go save him.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You’re going to go in and get him.  I’ll go with you as a bodyguard, they can’t look at me too closely.”

Doran stared and Grimmjow let him; they had a few minutes for the man to decide to agree before Grimmjow was moved to force him.  He’d hate to ruin the life of a man who knew what love felt like.

“Your neko,” Doran began.  “Was he kidnapped?”

Doran hands were fisted and his body was tensed up, every muscle hard with strain and tension.  His dark eyes were wet as Grimmjow met his gaze.

“He was stolen from me, stolen from his life.”

Doran nodded.  “I’ll do it then.  I wasn’t there for my sister, but this I can do.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Doran asked as he lightly scratched his bandages and peered out of the backseat window.  “You do have a plan don’t you?”

Grimmjow grinned at the man’s dubious tone.  “You don’t think I have a plan?”

Doran stared at him and frowned.  “You don’t seem the planning type, but you can’t be stupid if your story is true.”

“True enough to get you to play along.  The plan is we go in there, me as a bodyguard, and you grab Ichigo and we get out of there.”

“You think it’s going to be that easy?”

Grimmjow grabbed Doran’s shoulder tightly, meeting his gaze directly.  “If it’s not, get the fuck out and make sure Ichigo is with you, understand?  You leave there without him, I’ll find out, and I know where you live.”

Doran yanked his shoulder from Grimmjow’s grip and frowned darkly.  “I wouldn’t do that, asshole.  I said I’d help and I will.  After this though, I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Fine with me.  Just remember, no elaborate stories.  You’re a business man who just wants to get the merchandise and go.”

“I get it.” Doran replied, staring at Grimmjow.  “You know, that fedora only covers so much of your hair.”

“Don’t worry so much, I have my job and you have yours.”

“Here we are.” The taxi driver announced.  “Warehouse on Volley and Redswan.”

Grimmjow nodded and gave the driver the cash before slipping on his shades.  He and Doran left the car and watched it speed away.  The warehouse was everything Grimmjow imagined it would be, broken down, gray, and colossal.  There was a large bay door and a normal sized steel door.  They walked over to the door and Grimmjow slammed his fist against it.

Seconds later, a rectangle of steel slid sideways and brown eyes peered out at them.  Doran held up his I.D. for a few seconds and put it away.  The eyes glanced over to Grimmjow.

“And you?” The voice of the eyes said.

Grimmjow simply unbuttoned his jacket and slid it open, showing the pretty gun hanging by his ribs.  The rectangle slid shut and Grimmjow closed his jacket.  They both listened as the rusty clank and slide of old metal locks resounded behind the door.

The door opened and Doran stepped forward quickly and was pushed back just as quickly by Grimmjow’s fist on his chest.  Blue eyes peered at him.

“Bodyguard remember?  I go first.”

Doran nodded and stood back as Grimmjow stepped over the threshold.  The inside was dark, lit only by the streams of sunlight filtering down from the high windows.  The empty space housed only concrete and rusted metal…and cages.  Grimmjow followed Doran to the middle of the space to the three man sized cages that stood next to each other.  Three human males stood around the caged nekos, guarding the merchandise.  A woman walked out of the shadows, her long purple hair tied back in a messy tail.  She wore an all-black body suit, tight enough to leave no imagination as to the curve of her hips.  Her smile was wide and her golden eyes bright against the brown of her skin.

“Yamanai-san, yes?” She asked with cheer as her heels clacked to a stop just in front of Doran.  “Your pretty pet is the last one on the right, your right.”

Grimmjow watched as the woman handed Doran a golden key.  It wasn’t exactly suspicious that she didn’t introduce herself, she was illegally selling nekos after all, but at least she could have given a chosen moniker.  He carefully kept his eyes on Doran’s back as the man walked over to the mentioned cage.  If he caught sight of Ichigo now…Grimmjow jumped as the warehouse door was slammed open.  Doran ran to the cage and hurriedly and unlocked it as men in black armor carrying high caliber weapons rushed into the room and took position.  Following them was a surprise.

“Grimmjow!”

The blue haired man glanced back at Doran, who was holding thin and shaking neko with orange hair and big brown eyes.  Fucking Ichigo.  Grimmjow’s heart squeezed tight in his chest and shattered, the pieces burning his soul.  There was not time, no anything.  Separated once again.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Grimmjow glared at Doran and yelled.

“Get the fuck out of here!  Get him out.”

Two men rushed forward as Doran ran off with his charge, but Grimmjow intercepted, body slamming one and grabbing hold of the other, slamming him to the floor.  They reoriented themselves and held Grimmjow down together, no one bothering to give chase anymore.  Loud footsteps echoed and drew closer until a pair of black boots rested next to his face.

“Kid, I told you not to do any illegal shit.”  Stark crouched down next to Grimmjow and body searched him.  His hand closed on cold steel and he pulled the stolen gun from its holster.  “What did you think you were doing?  And stealing from me?  I thought we had respect for each other.”

Stark released the clip and froze, a slight smile touching his lips.  He gestured to the men to let Grimmjow stand, but they didn’t let go of him.

“No bullets, huh?  Maybe there’s hope for you.  You’re going to tell me what was going on here and how you’re involved.”

* * *

Grimmjow had spent a long time avoiding interrogation rooms and their occupants.  He hated cops of all kinds, he couldn’t believe he’d been somewhat friends with one, respected one.  He couldn’t be mad though, he’d kept plenty of secrets of his own.  All he could hope now, was that his story was intriguing enough to hold Stark’s attention and that Doran would make it very far away with…with _him_.

Stark sat down across from him, gray eyes sliding to Grimmjow’s cuffed wrists chained to the table.  He slid a paper cup of water to his fingers, but Grimmjow didn’t bother with the acrobatics he would have to do in order to drink it.

“Start from the beginning, Grimmjow.  Start with your name.”

Grimmjow smirked.  “Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.  I never went by any other, my own was obscure enough.”

Stark nodded.  “Even I thought it was a strange one and I live in the States.  It has to be unheard of in Japan.”

Grimmjow’s smirk died and his eyes stared through Stark and into somewhere else.  Not so unheard of, not anymore.

_“You had someone take him, didn’t you?  Didn’t you?!”_

_Grimmjow slapped his Father’s hand, sending the glass of bourbon crashing against the wall and spattering against the hardwood floor.  It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough for the fury roiling in his gut.  His father flew out of his chair and got nose to nose with him.  It was eerie staring into his own furious eyes._

_“You have lost your mind, boy.”  His Father growled.  “That little bitch was a curse on you, making you follow behind him on the street for all to see, blackening the Jaegerjaques name.”_

_Grimmjow pushed against his Father’s chest, forcing him to take a few steps back.  Jaegerjaques senior’s face was crimson with anger; Grimmjow was just as pissed and not backing down, not over this._

_“What I do is none of your business, old man.  Tell me what you did with Ichigo.”_

_“Everything you do is my business, little boy. Be lucky your mother died before giving me any other children or you’d have been dead long ago.  Fuck as many boys as you want to, marry one even, but no son of mine will lie in bed with animals.”  His Father sat back down in his chair and poured himself another glass of liquor.  “I sent it to the petting zoo, many humans like to pet his kind I hear.”_

_Petting zoo.  A disgusting name for a neko whorehouse.  The cherry wood desk stood out to Grimmjow in that moment of realization, the desk and the heavy silver pistol gleaming on top of it.  There was no hesitation when he grabbed it and emptied the clip into what he hoped to never become.  The next clip was installed just in time to meet with the guards._

“Not so unheard of.”  He said to Stark.  “Not anymore.”

“Really?  So, what are they going to tell me if I call them up and let them know that we have you?”

Grimmjow’s gaze focused back on the present moment.

“They’ll tell you that I murdered my father and his guards.  The servants too.  Anyone who was on the grounds at the time.  I was in my earlier teen years back then, prone to emotional outbursts.”

Stark stared at him in shock and exasperation.

“You call that an emotional outburst?  What did he do to you, Grimm?  Was he abusive?”

“Looking for what you would call a good reason?  Don’t bother.  He was abusive, but not how you think.  He rarely even bothered to put his hands on me or even talk to me.  He stole something from me, something almost as precious as what had been taken from me before.”

“The neko meant that much to you?”

Grimmjow wasn’t surprised that Stark had figured it out on his own, Stark was intelligent even if he was lazy.  In fact, he should have figured the lazy bastard was a detective.

“He did, he still does.  I had little to go on, but I followed what I could of his trail to the States.  There were a few detours in Africa and South America, but I don’t want to bore you with those.”

“Bore. Right.  Grimmjow, what did you think was going to happen?”

Grimmjow shrugged.  “I wasn’t thinking.  I was furious and then I wasn’t.  Then I was running and then I wasn’t.  Now I’m sitting here for one thing and not the other.  Am I going to prison?”

Stark leaned forward.  “I don’t want you to go to prison, Grimmjow.  I planned to fix you and fix your life so you would do better for yourself, so I admit to being bias in that decision.  Tell me, do you have any family in Japan?”

Surprised, Grimmjow frowned and rolled his eyes.

“What gave you that clue?  My name, jackass?  Of course I don’t, I’m not Japanese.  The only family I know of were my father and my mother.  One died in Germany and the other I killed myself.”

“You were born in Germany?  Not Japan.”

“That’s what I said.”

Stark frowned and sat back further into his seat.  “I don’t know how to help you Grimmjow.  It’s silly to even think of trying to get you out of a mass murder.”  He peered closely at Grimmjow’s face and looked into his eyes.  “Did you get what you wanted out of this, Grimmjow?  Did you do what you set out to do?”

“You and your men leave him alone, and I’ll be content.  I didn’t run from what I did, Stark.  I ran towards _him_.  I wanted to be the one to bring him home, but I trust the one who has him to care well for him.”

Stark nodded sadly and sighed as if all the world’s problems had landed on his desk.

“The U.S. and Japan have an Extradition Treaty, Grimm.  I have to call them and let them know that we have.  Then they’ll come and take you away.  You’ll be out of my hands then, but it seems like you’re okay with what’s coming.”

Grimmjow nodded.  He didn’t care for the sympathy, but he wasn’t going to curse the man for giving a shit.  There wasn’t much he could say or do anyway, Stark refused to be riled by anything that came out of Grimmjow’s mouth.  He hated that about him and loved it at the same time.

“I took care of everything I needed to.  Let them come, Stark.  Prison was never my fear.”

Stark took a moment to commit this boy, this man, to his memory.  Who knew when he would see him again, if he would see him again?  Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a dangerous man, but Stark had a feeling that he was also a blameless one.

 

A/N: So, how did you all like it?  Are you in suspense?  Wondering if Grimmjow is going to get out of this?  Will he be in prison forever?  You shall find out soon.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

 

Shinji Hirako was a man few would cross.  He was of mixed lineage, but both sides of the sheets had serious clout in their respective communities; no one would give him trouble over his naturally blonde hair.  The Japanese officers didn’t want him in their business, so he was in charge of crimes and criminals that involved foreigners, even the foreigners with a citizenship.  He walked through hallways made of glass and across a floor made of marble.  Shinji didn’t want the Japanese officers in his business, so he’d taken the liberty of building his own offices, and unlike the government, he wasn’t shy with his money.

“Hirako-san, the new prisoner is in the Cages.”

Toshiro Hitsugaya, the latest and greatest of his investigators, fell into step with him despite his much shorter stride.  The boy was in his late teens and he still hadn’t made it to at least five feet tall.  His white hair and blue eyes stood out, and that was why he was working for Shinji.  That and his genius.  The Cages though?

“The Cages and not one of the Cells?” He asked as he changed direction and headed towards the stairs leading down to the Cages.  “Who is the prisoner?”

Toshiro scanned his office tablet.  Shinji didn’t know why, the kid had most likely read and re-read the documents countless time before he showed up to take a look at things himself.  The kid probably had all the info memorized and categorized in his brain.

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.  24. Murdered his Father and all remaining on the estate before taking the private jet and disappearing.”  They reached the stairs and hurried down.  “It was impossible to trace him, he was out of Japan’s jurisdiction and in countries, no doubt, that had no agreements with ours.”

The door to the Cages was manned by six officers, though they were better trained than any mere police officer.  All six nodded in Shinji’s direction before keying in the codes to open the doors.  The big doors slid aside and Toshiro and Shinji walked through as soon as there was space enough.  Shinji didn’t move though until the doors closed back behind them.  Bright lights flickered on, and Shinji continued his trek down another hallway, this one lined with Cages, but with few prisoners.  Most didn’t get into enough trouble to warrant a Cell, let alone a Cage.

“Jaegerjaques.” Shinji murmured to himself as he walked.  “Toshiro, tell me why that name means something to me.”

“I have no idea, Hirako.  And don’t call me Toshiro, it’s Hitsugaya.”

“Right.” Shinji said with the tone of voice one uses when they’re not really listening.  Toshiro stopped outside of one Cage in particular and Shinji slowed his steps as well.  He turned to get a good look at the prisoner and his eyes got as wide as apples.  “Jaegerjaques.  No shit.”

 

* * *

 

 Doran couldn’t believe the trouble he was getting into going along with that idiots plan.  If it hadn’t been for his little sob story, Doran would have called the cops himself.  He stared down at the little neko clinging to him and he couldn’t quite be pissed at someone who was trying to save the poor creature.  Jaegerjaques had managed to cover them, or at least keep them from being pursued, and the taxi had been waiting where they’d told it to.  Now he was going to take the neko home with him and give him the best life he could manage, until Jaegerjaques showed up or he didn’t.

The first thing on the list to do was feed the neko.  He’d probably been starved or fed bare minimum to keep him alive.  The taxi pulled into his driveway and Doran paid the driver, sliding out of the backseat with the orange haired neko.  The slight neko was quiet, more than covered in Doran’s suit jacket, and his ears laid so close to his head that his wild hair hid their existence completely; the taxi driver would have no tales to tell, not that he would bother telling anyway.  Once inside, Doran turned the neko to face him in the foyer.

Big brown eyes stared at him, just a few inches below his own dark eyes.  The neko meant something to that blue haired thug, so Doran had a feeling that it was mutual.  He needed the neko calm and reassured.

“You know Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, don’t you?”

The orange ears perked up and twitched around as if searching for the sound of the mentioned man’s voice. Doran was sorry to disappoint him.  At least the neko was now showing signs of being active instead of just reactive.  The next words out of his mouth were going to taste sour on his tongue.

“He and I are friends.”  He said in a soft voice he hoped was reassuring.  “He told me about you and I decided to help him out.  It was my money he used to buy you.”

The neko’s ears stood straight up and a smile slid onto his face.

“Grimm doesn’t have friends.” The neko said in a surprisingly husky voice.  “He threatened you didn’t he, and stole from you?”

Not much of a liar and not wanting to be, Doran simply nodded in answer.  His expression earned a little laughter from the neko.

“You must be a very good man, then.  Grimm could use more friends like you.”

Doran frowned severely.  “I’ll name that man friend when I-” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I’ll name him friend for all time if that is what it takes to make you feel at ease in my home.”

“I am Ichigo Kurosaki.”

Doran smiled and returned the introduction.  “I am Doran Yamanai and I guess you’ll be staying with me for as long as it takes.”

“As long as Grimm can find me.”

Doran nodded and smiled again.  “You speak English very well, did someone teach you in Japan?”

Ichigo nodded and, more at ease, took small steps this way and that, exploring bit by bit.

“One of the teachers there taught me.  She was very old, so in exchange, I cooked for her and helped her look after her home.”

“That was kind of you.”

Ichigo stared at the portrait of Doran’s family and glanced back with an odd expression on his face.

“I could afford to be kind.”

“And now?”

“It’s not in me to hate anyone.”

Doran led the neko into the kitchen and fed him whatever was in the fridge.  Ichigo even began to cook his food once he slowed down in his binge eating.  Doran didn’t share in the feast, but he wasn’t starving and he could more than afford a suddenly empty refrigerator.

“What do we do now?” Ichigo asked while he snapped a pickle into pieces.  “Is it safe here?”

Doran nodded and sat down a stool to relax.  There was nothing left to do.

“Nothing, but wait.  You’re bought and paid for, no reason for the dealers to come looking for you.  The police have no way of finding out that you’re here, and I doubt they’re looking for you either.  We’re more than safe here.”

* * *

Grimmjow stared at a face he’d only seen once, in passing, as a child.  The Hirako name was useless at a title for the kind of power Shinji’s family had, so they’d gone by Shinji's mother's last name, Tu Odelschwanck.  Shinji’s family had power in Germany, but his family didn’t touch the Jaegerjaques name.  He had to wonder what the man was doing in Japan, what kind of business he was conducting.

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.” Shinji said with awe.  “No wonder your name was so familiar.”  He glanced over at the kid standing next to him.  “We can’t give him a trial here.  Get him ready for transport.”

“What?” The kid said.  “He just got here, Hirako.”

“Do what I said.”

Grimmjow watched the red faced kid huff and stomp out of the room.  He seemed young to be working for Shinji.  Grimmjow sat back on the cot and leaned his back against the wall.  It seemed he’d have to play the fucking waiting game again.  How the hell was he going to get back to Ichigo?  When was he?

“Look, third cousin.”  Shinji said as he grabbed his cell phone and ran his thumb over the screen.  “You’re family of a sort, so I’ll give you some advice.”  He pushed the cell phone through the bars in Grimmjow’s direction.  “Call this number and tell him that you’re here.”

 

A/N:  Who is Grimmjow going to call?  How long can Ichigo cope with a stranger?  How long will he have to?


	5. Chapter 5

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Stark couldn’t understand it.  Grimmjow wasn’t one to care about anyone or anything, not in the time he’d known the blue haired trouble maker.  Was he volatile enough to slaughter large groups of people?  Stark was still on the fence about that.  Grimmjow had roughed up enough people in the states, but he had never killed any of them.  That could have just been him trying to stay under the radar, what with him being a criminal already proven to be a murderer.  Stark ran his hand over the lid of his laptop and opened it.  Now that he knew Grimmjow’s last name, he could do a check on him and see what there was to find out.

 

The mass murder that had taken place in Japan was understandably the first article associated with the name Jaegerjaques.  Thirty people killed, including guards, servants, and Grimmjow’s own father, Alderic Jaegerjaques.  He’d stolen a private plane and escaped the country to places previously unknown, but Stark would need to add that to the file.  He clicked the link to Alderic and was unsurprised.

 

The man had been renowned criminal in Germany, his dark dealings eventually getting his wife assassinated, causing them to leave the country while Grimmjow was still seven years old.  Stark shook his head.  It’s no doubt the kid was the way he was because of the criminal lifestyle he’d been watching from birth.  The name of his mother was unknown and there was no more mention of her.  The most surprising fact was what caught his eye last.  His blood practically froze at the sight of those words.  Did the kid even know?

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t often that his cell phone rang; very few had the privilege of knowing his personal number.  He grabbed his cell off of his desk and glanced at the screen.  Shinji.  Kin to him down the line, but just as much trouble as his immediate family.  He sat back in his chair, undid his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves.  Deep breath, in and out. 

“Da. Dies ist Roderick.  What do you want Shinji?”

“Who is this?”

The man’s heart paused a moment, before making the blood rush through his body like wildfire.  He knew that voice, not one he’d heard in a long time.  It couldn’t be who he thought it was of course, that man was long dead.  He felt his free hand curling into a tight fist at the reminder of the darker half of his past that he’d left behind.

“Sir.”

The man glanced at the guards standing by the doors and windows, eyes landing on the one who’d spoken.  The guard was expressing concern, or more like expressing whether or not there was a need for him to express concern.  The man kept eye contact and shook his head.  This was no problem, not one he needed anyone else to deal with.  He gave his full attention back to whomever was on the other end of the line.

“You called me.  Is this some joke?  Has Shinji lost his mind?”  He yelled louder with each word, unintentionally but unable to keep hold of his temper after hearing that voice.  “Shinji may be kin of my kin, but that only allows him so much leeway.  He does not wish to rouse my fury, boy.”

“I’m no boy.”  The voice growled back.  “Who are you?  You sound like someone I killed a long time ago.”

The man’s body didn’t even take the time to register surprise or shock at the statement.  He knew instantly who it was, what Shinji had meant to do.

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.”  He said in revelation.  “Son to my brother, fool that he was.”

“Fool?  The man was a monster.”

“The same could be said of you, child, with what you did to him and his servants.”

“He stole from me.”

The man nodded at the growl in the boy’s voice.  Grimmjow may deny it, but the Jaegerjaques line was well known for anger issues.

“What was it that he stole?”

“Why did Shinji tell me to call you?  Who are you that you can fix this?”

The man debated telling the boy who he was.  There was only one problem he could think of associated with his brother’s child that Shinji would think he could fix.

“Are you incarcerated?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Japan.”

“You’re with Shinji then.  I’ll make the arrangements.  Regardless of Shinji’s considerable clout, he can’t send you to me without my permission.”

“Wait.”  Grimmjow demanded.  “It’s taking a lot out of me to not tell you a few things unpleasant.  This is out of my hands, so I have no choice here, the least you could do is tell me who you are.  Alderic never said anything about a real uncle.”

Real uncle?  Were there uncles who were not real?  He could only wonder who the boy had been giving such a familial title to, but he didn’t have to wonder long.  Alderic had surrounded himself with guards, much like himself.  The difference was that Roderick surrounded himself with family he could trust as well.  Which explained why he kept his brother at a very long distance.

“I am Roderick Jaegerjaques, brother to your father.  That is all you need to know for now.  I will send for you and then I will decide if you deserve my help.”

Roderick ended the call, despite the beginnings of protest he could hear coming from the speaker.  The boy was in no position to argue; it was only Roderick’s need to speak to him in person that drove him to step into this mess at all.  One of his guards stepped forward, drawing his gaze.

“Präsident, you have a meeting in five minutes.”

Roderick had worked hard to get where he was.  He was glad his brother was dead.

 

A/N: Alright, so, it’s short and I’m an evil person who hasn’t updated in forever, I know.  This is an attempt to get back into my fanfiction stories.  I have a paper due this week, so maybe next week I’ll have a better and longer chapter ready for you all.


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